


Magical Mishaps and How to Deal

by plumtrees



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Final Haikyuu Quest, Blood, Family, Fluff, Frottage, Grinding, Insomnia, M/M, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 01:23:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8267531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumtrees/pseuds/plumtrees
Summary: Hanamaki Takahiro loved Matsukawa Issei. Sometimes. Mostly. When he wasn’t being bull-headed or overly-difficult. Which wasn’t a lot of the time now that Hanamaki thought about it. Shit. But he digressed.
  Demon-mating was a for life kind of deal. Certainly not a decision one could make out of the blue, without years of prior thought and much meditation. The day he asked for his mother’s blessing, the day he planned to ask Matsukawa to be his mate, she had told him If you’re sure you’ll be happy with him, then all I hope for is that he says yes and by some miracle he did and here they are now and Hanamaki could say with all the certainty in the world that he loved Matsukawa Issei with all his heart and soul(s).
  But some days…dear gods, some days…some days he just made it really, really difficult.
Or: Matsukawa accidentally turns Kindaichi and Kunimi into babies and guess who has to help him clean up his fucking mess.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I’m BACK Y’ALL
> 
> This is a fic I’ve been working on for _months_ it seems (prompt was: holy shit you're doing it completely wrong what if you summon something bad here stop doing that please get away from the magic circle) and I just finally finished it. It’s purely self-indulgent and celebratory and I’m not even gonna apologize for anything (except the typos lol please notify me of any I will love you forever).
> 
> There are a ~bunch~ of untagged+hinted pairings in this one but it’s really just mentioned in passing. For reference of people who have NOTPs, it's MatsuKuro, KyouWata, OiIwa, platonic/familial MatsuHanaKinKuni. 
> 
> Main/major/endgame ship is still MatsuHana despite anything I might suggest ;)

“It was an accident.” Matsukawa said, tone cresting when the bundle in his arms suddenly pitched sideways, nearly falling out of his hold.

“Well, spawns from young parents tend to b—”

“Oikawa this is no time for your jokes.” Iwaizumi snapped, and the Grand Demon King—renowned as the most powerful demon of the Kingdom of Seijou, most esteemed ruler of all its ten thousand inhabitants—meekly shut his mouth. In Hanamaki’s arms, Kindaichi began tearing up and he hurriedly bounced him, trying to quell the oncoming tantrum. Kunimi looked up at the sound of his friend’s distress and wriggled even more agitatedly in Matsukawa’s awkward grip.

“Explain to me again,” Iwaizumi said, voice notably milder this time, “how this happened?”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa shared a glance.

“Well…”

 

-

 

Hanamaki Takahiro loved Matsukawa Issei. Sometimes. Mostly. When he wasn’t being bull-headed or overly-difficult. Which wasn’t a lot of the time now that Hanamaki thought about it. Shit. But he digressed.

Demon-mating was a _for life_ kind of deal. Certainly not a decision one could make out of the blue, without years of prior thought and much meditation. The day he asked for his mother’s blessing, the day he planned to ask Matsukawa to be his mate, she had told him _If you’re sure you’ll be happy with him, then all I hope for is that he says yes_ and by some miracle he _did_ and here they are now and Hanamaki could say with all the certainty in the underworld that he loved Matsukawa Issei with all his heart and soul(s).

But some days…dear gods, some days…some days he just made it really, really difficult.

“Issei,” he started, and it took all his already-meager reservoir of patience just to get that name out as calmly as it did, “what the hell are you doing?”

Matsukawa looked up at him with his typical bored expression, as if he wasn’t sitting in the middle of a magic circle that was glowing an alarming shade of fuchsia. “Trying out a new spell I learned from Tendou.”

Quickly, Hanamaki ran his eyes through the circle, panic rising when he failed to recognize most of the runes. “What did he…say the spell could do?”

Matsukawa lifted a plate with a chunk of raw ground meat and a large block of cheese. Hanamaki’s eyebrows threatened to rise past his hairline.

“The last time he gave you a “recipe” for cheese-filled burgers, it turned the raw meat into live cows and the cheese into fresh milk.” he said all this very slowly, hoping that maybe doing so will successfully penetrate through Matsukawa’s single-minded pursuit for cheese-filled hamburgers. “Why are you even sitting _in_ the circle?”

“He said it would work if I did it that way.”

Hanamaki stared at him. Matsukawa just stared right back. Hanamaki closed his eyes and prayed to any higher being willing to listen that his next reincarnation cycle wouldn’t have to involve dealing with any more of this shit.

Before he could even open his mouth to scold his mate (maybe something along the lines of _get the fuck out of there before I replace these runes with ones that’ll turn you into a teacup pig I swear to the_ gods _Issei_ ) the circle began to hum ominously, the items around the room rattling a furious beat against the stone floors.

There was no time. He dived for Matsukawa, slicing the skin of his thumb with a sharpened nail and smearing the rune for a shield spell on his arm.

The last thing he heard before the explosion was the slow creak of the door’s hinges.

 

-

 

“Unbelievable.”

Masukawa quickly opened his mouth but obediently shut it when Iwaizumi prodded a finger at his chest, careful to avoid Kunimi’s little head.

“How could you be so irresponsible as to practice experimental magic without locking the door?! I would’ve expected this from Oikawa, but _you_ —”

“In my defense,” Matsukawa started, around the same time Oikawa protested with a high-pitched _Rude!_ sputtered in the background. Hanamaki promptly glared holes into his mate’s back, praying that he wouldn’t—

“I was really hungry.”

…he did.

Iwaizumi let out an almighty roar and Hanamaki slowly backed away, wondering how a human could be so much more terrifying than any of the demons in the castle combined.

Suddenly, a loud cry tore through the racket and everything but the wailing bundle in Hanamaki’s arms fell silent. With Kindaichi crying, Kunimi immediately followed, arms flailing and fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

Hanamaki cursed under his breath, but before he could even begin to bounce Kindaichi— _would that even work? Hell if he knew_ —an arm was already reaching out to take him.

“Give them here.” Iwaizumi insisted, Kunimi already balanced on one arm. Hanamaki complied, handing Kindaichi over and watching, fascinated when Iwaizumi adjusted him so that he was comfortable. Kindaichi had already stopped crying and both spawns were now staring up at Iwaizumi, eyes shining with leftover tears. Kunimi in particular had his gaze set a little higher, to the smooth, hornless arch of Iwaizumi’s forehead.

Iwaizumi cooed at both of them for a few moments, spoke to them in the garbled syllables of spawn-speak with his voice pitched unbelievably high, bounced them simultaneously until the flat lines of their mouths curved into open, gap-toothed little smiles. Hanamaki blinked. Pinched himself just to be sure. Because there was no way this person in front of him was the same Iwaizumi Hajime who could take down five fully-trained demon soldiers all by himself.

Crisis averted, he turned to Oikawa, sweet smile morphing into a stern glare in the span of a second. “Fix this.”

“Wait, why _me_?” Oikawa sputtered, hands held up awkwardly. “ _They_ did this.”

“Don’t you think we would have fixed it the moment it happened, if we could?” Hanamaki replied.

“Oh? What is this I’m hearing, Makki? Are you admitting that my magic’s better than yours?”

Hanamaki’s eyebrow jerked up, patience steadily wearing thin. “You are the Demon King for a reason, Oikawa. _Yes_ your magic is better than mine.”

Oikawa pouted. “Ruin my fun, why don’t you.” he mumbled huffily before stepping closer to Iwaizumi, laying a gentle hand on Kunimi’s cheek. Kunimi’s eyes widened when Oikawa’s hand began to glow, head angling to get a better look. Kindaichi let out a worried, keening sound but a soft hush from Iwaizumi settled him right down. After a few expectant seconds, Oikawa shook his head, a frustrated crease in the bridge of his nose.

“It’s strange. I’m not detecting any sort of magic that’s restricting them in this form.” he said and turned to Kindaichi, setting his glowing hand on his forehead, carefully avoiding the blunt stubs of his horns.

Hanamaki glanced between Iwaizumi and Oikawa, taking in the image of Iwaizumi with two spawns cradled against his chest while Oikawa hovered over them, hand working back and forth between the two, fussing like an overly-worried parent. He shared a look with his mate, who only blinked back and shrugged.

Oikawa straightened up, brows furrowed. “Nothing! It’s like they’re just two perfectly healthy demon spawns.”

Hanamaki’s shoulders sagged. “So you can’t fix it?”

Oikawa shook his head, expression slowly darkening.

“So what do we do?”

Oikawa waved dismissively, already turning to the direction of his personal quarters. “Go to Yahaba. Maybe he has a potion that can help.”

Hanamaki glanced at Iwaizumi, expecting him to blow up at Oikawa’s easy admittance of defeat, but there was something serious in Iwaizumi’s eyes. He handed the spawns back (Kindaichi almost refusing to let go), and followed Oikawa, speaking in hushed tones when he finally caught up.

“What was that about?” Hanamaki muttered over Kindaichi’s soft whines, head still turned towards the door Iwaizumi and Oikawa had disappeared to.

“I got this spell from Shiratorizawa. Oikawa’s probably worried that it’s a spell he’s not familiar with. Y’ know things have been a little tense lately, with him and Ushiwaka.”

“Well how many times do I even have to tell you not to trust someone who’s well-known for being the best trickster in all five kingdoms?” Hanamaki spit venomously, only to be redirected when Kindaichi let out upset little prattling noises. Not exactly full-on crying but he was pawing at his chest, fists opening and closing weakly.

“Do you think he wants Iwaizumi?”

Matsukawa met him with an infuriatingly blank look. “What makes you think I can translate spawn-speak?”

“Don’t you dare go sassy on me right now, Issei. You don’t have that right.” Hanamaki seethed. “Hey, come on, what’s wrong?”

He reached out to stroke the spawn’s cheek, hoping it would have the desired effect, but as soon as his finger got within reach, the spawn stretched out and clamped his jaw around it.

Hanamaki yelped, just barely stopping himself from wrenching his finger out lest he hurt Kindaichi, and just when the pain was beginning to taper off, he noticed Kindaichi had fallen silent, sucking contentedly on his finger.

“Well I guess that solves the problem of what to feed them.” Matsukawa pointed out sullenly, offering his own finger for Kunimi to latch on to.

 

-

 

“Congratulations on the successful birth. You have two healthy male spawns. And I’d like to remind Matsukawa-san to update that _Days Since Last Accident_ sign on your front door, because I'm pretty sure this counts as an accident."

“Hilarious.” Matsukawa shot back dryly. Hanamaki was pretty sure he’d be throwing up a middle finger if it wasn’t currently in Kunimi’s mouth.

"How is Kindaichi so thin when he fed this much as a spawn?" Hanamaki asked, visibly woozy. Yahaba clicked his tongue and pried Kindaichi’s jaws apart with gentle fingers, much to the spawn’s chagrin. A graceful wave of Yahaba’s fingers summoned a pacifier out of thin air and he shoved the teat into Kindaichi’s mouth before he could produce a more vocal complaint. Another gesture produced a sealed jar filled with thick red-brown liquid which he handed to Hanamaki.

“A tablespoon of this after a feeding.” he instructed. “Won’t do to have you pass out from blood loss. If it runs out, come back and I’ll give you more.”

“You know what would be easier? Getting us a potion to reverse this so we won’t have to keep feeding them.” Hanamaki drawled, but took the jar anyway, punctured finger delicately held out. Yahaba was gracious enough to daub some sort of numbing gel over it.

“If Oikawa-sama can’t fix this with a snap of his fingers, what makes you think _I_ can?”

“Don’t you have a recipe for an aging potion?” Matsukawa asked, gently pulling his finger from Kunimi’s mouth when he opened it to burp.

“That’s purely cosmetic.” Yahaba explained impatiently. “If I gave them a potion to accelerate their aging process, it would only leave them with the minds of spawns in adult bodies.”

The potions dealer briefly turned away to drop some crow feathers into the bubbling cauldron on the table, stirring until it turned a vaguely nauseating shade of orange. “You could just age them naturally. Raise them like your own children.”

“Are you listening to yourself?” Hanamaki snapped.

“Look, Hanamaki-san, Matsukawa-san,” Yahaba sighed, rubbing a temple with one hand while the other upturned a bowl of shimmery powder over another cauldron, “I’m already busy enough as it is. Frankly, two de-aged soldiers are the least of my worries.”

He and Matsukawa shared a look, his decidedly more poisonous while his mate had his lower lip jutted out in a remorseful pout. Like hell was that going to work this time. Or so he told himself.

“Do you still have the diagram to the magic circle?” Yahaba asked. “Then maybe you can ask Kuroo-san to analyze the runes for you so you can create a spell to reverse the effects.”

Hanamaki tamped down the irritable sigh. Matsukawa only hummed thoughtfully.

“Hey Yahaba, you wouldn’t have any sanma lying ‘round would you?”

 

-

 

“Yo! Matsukawa-kun! Hanamaki!” Kuroo greets enthusiastically, arms open wide in a gesture of welcome and goodwill, the crystal ball he’d turned away from dimming in its pedestal.

“Hey Kuroo.” Matsukawa greeted back, pulling up the sack of fish he’d gotten from Yahaba. “Just hoping for a little help with something.”

Kuroo’s mouth immediately split into a grin, running over for a hug, only to stop, stare curiously at Kunimi (who stared back apprehensively), then circle around Matsukawa to jump on his back and nuzzle the back of his head.

“Aww, Matsukawa-kun, you got me sanma! A demon after my own soul.”

“You don’t have a soul.” Hanamaki hissed, the spawn held securely in his arms the only reason he wasn’t hexing Kuroo’s ass until he stepped a good five meters out of Matsukawa’s personal space. What did he do so wrong that the gods all seemed to have collectively decided to test him today?

“Not my own, maybe, but I got plenty others to keep me from missing mine too much.” Kuroo replied conversationally, patting the spot over his heart. He hopped off of Matsukawa, circling back around him to look at Kunimi. “So, you accidentally de-aged two of your finest soldiers and you need them back in working order as soon as possible, yes? The orb told me as much. Aww, but why would you though? Look at them they’re so precious—”

“Kuroo.”

Kuroo looked up, thumb and index finger promptly releasing Kunimi’s cheek once he caught Hanamaki’s expression.

“Alright, alright.” he puffed, like he had any right to be offended when he’s the one hanging all over a mated demon. Thankfully, he scurried off without another word, immediately zeroing in on a very heavy-looking book and tugging it out of its spot on the shelf with near-unbelievable ease.

“I recognize that book!” Matsukawa said, eyes widening. “It’s the one Tendou got the spell from.”

Kuroo smirked, cat-like and flirtatious and Hanamaki wanted to sock him in the face for it. “There are only two copies in existence. The other one is in Shiratorizawa Castle.”

“And you have this one _how_?” Hanamaki asked, not even bothering to hide the suspicion in his tone.

“I like my secrets where they are, Hanamaki.” Kuroo tutted, setting the book on the table, several glass ornaments tinkling in protest. “Now, lucky for you this also contains all the _counter_ -spells.”

He opened the book to a spread with a diagram for a magic circle on the right with instructions and ingredients outlined on the left. “It’s a bit of a sensitive spell.” He started, eyes flickering across the words on the page. “For one, I can only do it on the day leading up to a full moon, and I’m gonna need some ingredients.”

“Full moon?” Hanamaki frowned. “That’s five days away.”

“So you’re gonna have to play house for five days.” Kuroo shrugged, then pulled a blank scrap of parchment from beneath a precarious tower of books. He laid his left hand on the book and his right on the sheet and a few murmured words were all it took for the words to suddenly appear on the paper, a perfectly identical copy.

Kuroo handed them the duplicate with a flourish. “Here’s the list of things I’ll need. No rush, but unless you wanna wait another month, bring it back before five days are up.”

“Great.” Hanamaki muttered, wincing when he caught _moonfish scales_ and _spireweeds_ on the paper before Matsukawa took it and tucked it in his pocket.

Kuroo clapped his hands gleefully. “Hey, kids aren’t so bad! Think of it as practice for when you get your own spawns.”

Kindaichi giggled and imitated Kuroo’s clapping, Matsukawa paling slightly behind him. “Umm…we’re not—”

“If it’s the biology you’re worried about, I have a spell for that to—”

“Goodbye, Kuroo!” Hanamaki interrupted, shouldering his mate out the warlock’s door.

 

-

 

The end of that particularly harrowing day found the four of them inside Hanamaki and Matsukawa’s very much baby-proofed room. Hanamaki had transfigured a giant duck-printed quilt that practically took up the entire floor, every edge and corner of their furniture was now padded with a soft, foamy material, and every sharp, pointy, flammable, hazardous item had been relocated well out of reach. For good measure, he had also summoned a large crib and several stuffed animals more than twice Kindaichi and Kunimi’s size.

Right now, both of them were crawling atop the belly of a mint green teddy bear, Kunimi looking about ready to fall asleep right there while Kindaichi stared intently into the bear’s eyes.

“Hey.”

Hanamaki hummed in response from his spot on the floor, on his belly, cheek propped on an arm aching from having to carry an eight-kilogram spawn for a hefty chunk of the day.

“Sorry,” he heard and Hanamaki’s head immediately spun to the side, eyes wide. Matsukawa had his eyes averted in shame, fingers tugging at a stray bit of threading on the quilt. “For all the trouble.” His jaw clicked, rolled around in its socket like he was chewing something tough. “I know it’s my fault. Sorry I dragged you into it.”

Hanamaki sighed heavily, reaching out to pat his mate’s thigh comfortingly. “’s fine. Sorry I was snappy the whole day.”

“You had the right to be though.”

“Yeah but it’s not like it made the situation any better.” Hanamaki scratched lightly at the fabric of his pants until Matsukawa got the message, reaching down to interlace their fingers. Matsukawa’s smile came slowly, and Hanamaki greeted it with one of his own when it did. “It’ll only be for five days. Not so bad when you think about it.”

“Forgiven?” Matsukawa pouted, repositioning himself to lie beside him on the floor, pressing their shoulders together. Hanamaki pitched his weight to the side in a playful nudge.

“Like I could ever get mad at you for too long, bushbrows.”

A sudden round of garbled syllables interrupted the moment, and they both looked up to see that Kindaichi had managed to crawl so far forward that he was sitting on the bear’s face, gazing intently at his warped reflection in the black bead of its eye.

“They were so cute back when they were spawns.” Hanamaki giggled.

Matsukawa smiled, reaching out to tickle Kunimi on the nose. His face scrunched up and he let out a tiny little sneeze, surprising Kindaichi and sending him toppling off the bear, landing face first in the soft quilt.

Hanamaki tensed, glancing at Matsukawa, but he made no move to help Kindaichi. His eyes were watchful as the spawn squirmed, limbs clumsily flailing, until he finally flipped himself over. There was no threat of impending tears on Kindaichi’s face, just an odd focus as he sat up and looked at Matsukawa, who was smiling proudly at him.

“Good kid.” Matsukawa praised, and reached out to pat Kindaichi on the head. The spawn gurgled happily, both hands reaching up to close around Matsukawa’s pinky and thumb.

Hanamaki smiled. “So you’re more of a hands-off parent, I see?”

“Is that bad?” Matsukawa asked, turning to face him, brows furrowed like he was expecting to be scolded.

“Nah.” Hanamaki shrugged, crawling forward, Kindaichi turning to him with big, bright eyes when he got close enough. “I just never thought I’d ever find that out about you.”

Discussing spawn-rearing would be stupid, after all, considering the circumstances they were in. And it’s not like Hanamaki ever considered it as an option. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and distracted himself when Kindaichi patted his cheek, gurgling nonsense. He leaned in to playfully bump Kindaichi with his forehead, the spawn letting out a thrilled squeal and bopping Hanamaki’s nose repeatedly.

“I guess we’re both just lucky that they’re well-behaved.” Matsukawa mumbled. Then backtracked when all the memories of the day caught up to him. “Mostly.”

“Can you just imagine if it had happened to Oikawa?” Hanamaki giggled, wriggling back and cooing encouragingly when Kindaichi landed on his belly, crawling on all fours to chase him.

Matsukawa chuckled warmly. “We’d never get any sleep.”

“Speaking of sleep.” Hanamaki turned to Kunimi, who had already dozed off, chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm. Carefully, Hanamaki eased a hand around his head and bottom, slowly lifting him up to his chest. “Up you go.”

Kindaichi made an indignant little noise, probably for being abandoned in the middle of playtime. Matsukawa jumped in to pick him up while Hanamaki walked over to the crib, tucking Kunimi in.

“Why aren’t you tired?” Matsukawa asked. Kindaichi only babbled back at him, tiny hands brushing through his eyebrows. Hanamaki disguised his smile behind Kunimi’s hair, kissing the two small horns peeking from his forehead before straightening.

Matsukawa was staring at him, expression frozen in that thoughtful little half-frown even as Kindaichi tugged on his horn. Hanamaki blinked.

“What?”

Matsukawa’s expression shifted to an unnerving blankness, angling his stare back to the child in his arms.

“Nothing.” he answered. Kindaichi only giggled and smacked him on the nose.

 

-

 

Hanamaki woke in the middle of the night not exactly knowing why.

He’s the walking definition of a heavy sleeper. One infamous story around the castle was about him sleeping through the explosion that Yahaba caused when he was a novice potions maker (you know, the one that took out an entire section of wall with it? If you looked hard enough you could see where the original stone wall mixed with the replacement). Hanamaki Takahiro did _not_ just wake up from a good sleep for nothing. So that fact that he was here, wide awake, with the lack of light from their window indicating that it is, in fact, night, and not the middle of the afternoon like it should be, was quite jarring.

And then, he heard it.

It was a tiny sound, barely classifiable by Hanamaki’s lucid brain as any of the sounds familiar to their side of the castle. He slipped from the blanket, moving carefully to keep from waking Matsukawa, and when his bare feet hit the quilted floor, the realization clicked like a puzzle locking into place, and he practically flew to the crib situated in the opposite corner of the room.

Kunimi’s face was scrunched up, tiny fists curled tight, near-silent whimpers slipping from his downturned lips. Hanamaki scooped him into his arms and cradled his head, careful not to jostle Kindaichi, who, thankfully, hadn’t been woken by Kunimi’s squirming.

“Shh, Kunimi, shh,” he whispered, humming softly to soothe him. The spawn’s fingers immediately found purchase in the thin fabric of his nightclothes, clinging tight and burying his face in his shoulder.

He stood there for a while, not really sure how to proceed. Kunimi had fallen quiet, breaths slowing, but his hands still clutched his shirt, and whenever Hanamaki tried to pull him away, he’d only whine, the furrow returning to the space between his brows.

“Taka?” Matsukawa’s bleary voice rose from their bed alongside the creaking of the wooden frame. “What’s going on?”

“Nightmare? Probably?” Hanamaki answered, patting down the back of Kunimi’s head as his mate sat up, rubbing his eyes and frowning.

“How are you awake?”

“Dunno.” Hanamaki answered, because it was an easier response than _I think Kunimi was having a nightmare and even though he barely made a sound I just shot out of bed_.

Matsukawa came up beside him, groggily steadying himself with a hand on the crib. He had the same expression that he did earlier that night, that thoughtful little half-frown and Hanamaki remembered it well because it was the same half-frown he had on just seconds before he finally leaned in and kissed Hanamaki for the first time, the very same one he wore when Hanamaki asked him to be his mate, in the torturous seconds before he smiled so wide and said _yes_.

“Issei?” he tried, and Matsukawa jumped as if suddenly remembering where he was, hurriedly blinking away the remaining lethargy.

“Do you wanna let him sleep with us tonight?” Matsukawa asked, a yawn coming up mid-sentence. Hanamaki tried to carefully pry his shirt from Kunimi’s hold again only to receive a soft whimper of protest.

“Might as well take Kindaichi with you.” Hanamaki sighed, carefully readjusting his grip on Kunimi as he approached their bed. “He might cry if he wakes up alone.”

Matsukawa hunched over the crib to lift Kindaichi out, the spawn barely stirring as he was carried across the room and into the queen-sized bed. Kunimi had already settled in, using Hanamaki’s arm as a pillow, face tucked in his chest and tiny hands still bunched around fabric. Behind him, he could feel Matsukawa’s back pressing up against his, the reassuring warmth of his mate creeping through his body and triggering his instincts. His breathing slowed, leaden eyelids slipping shut, arm curling to frame Kunimi’s tiny figure to keep him from rolling around and falling off the edge.

Sleep came surprisingly easy.

 

-

 

The next time Hanamaki opened his eyes, the sun shone bright through the arched stone window, its rays stretching out to cover Hanamaki’s side of the bed like a second blanket, the bustle of afternoon activities from outside loud enough to be carried into the room but not enough to be bothersome. He stretched slowly, well aware that their bed had more occupants than usual, only to frown in confusion when he finally realized that the spaces beside him were empty. He turned and lied on his back, patting the expanse of the bed covers until his fingers grazed the edge.

Where the hell—

“And he lives.” Matsukawa drawled, all fake enthusiasm, suddenly popping into his field of vision. Without warning, two weights were suddenly dropped onto his chest, knocking all the air out of him. He gasped and smelled fresh berries, sweet as spring and nectar. “C’mon guys, give your dad a kiss.”

“Ack!” Hanamaki protested, suddenly finding his face assaulted with two too-wet lips, showering him with sloppy kisses, their blunt little horns nearly poking his eyes out. “Okay, okay, I’m up!”

He could hear Matsukawa laughing, the bastard, but the weight of the kids was immediately lifted off his chest, allowing him to sit up.

“How long have you been awake?” he mumbled darkly, glaring up at his mate, though the effect was slightly dampened by the sight of two bright smiles directed at him. Shit, he was already whipped.

“Few hours, give or take.” Matsukawa replied cheerfully, lowering Kindaichi down on Hanamaki’s lap. “The kids woke up earlier than I did though. After breakfast, I ran them a bath with Iwaizumi’s help.”

Well that explained the berries. Hanamaki hummed in acknowledgement, playfully reaching down to poke Kindaichi between his horns. “Did you drink that medicine Yahaba gave yesterday?”

Matsukawa nodded, but not without scowling in distaste. “Still can’t get used to the taste though. I tried mixing it in with nectar to keep it from tasting like shit but I think I only made it worse.”

His hand immediately shot out to smack Matsukawa’s thigh, the spawns starting in surprise at the sharp sound. “Don’t swear in front of the spawns.”

“They don’t even know what I’m saying.”

“Sure they do. Watch.” he hooked his hands under Kindaichi’s arms, lifting him up to eye-level. “Hey, Kin-chan, I’m the more handsome dad, right?”

The spawn babbled excitedly, attempting to waddle forward, tiny hands reaching for his face. Hanamaki grinned triumphantly at his mate. Matsukawa pouted and sat on the bed beside him, settling Kunimi down on the covers.

“That’s ok, at least Kunimi likes me best. Right, Kuni-chan?”

Kunimi only gazed blankly at him, then reached out to smack the same spot Hanamaki did earlier. Hanamaki fell back onto his pillow, cackling like a madman.

 

-

 

He sat back against the propped-up pillows, contentedly watching Matsukawa play with the kids while he ate the lunch they brought in for him. Neither of their responsibilities were calling just yet. Matsukawa was in charge of watching over the trainees’ hand-to-hand combat exercises while Hanamaki was in charge of supervising their long-range weapons training; activities which were scheduled for the late afternoons.

A slow creak interrupted the sounds of playtime. Hanamaki looked up from what remained of his eggplants, half the cut of vegetable lolling out of his mouth as he grunted in indignation at the signature black-striped blond head peeking out from behind the oak door.

“No way.” A rough voice called from the doorway. “So Yahaba _wasn’t_ pulling my leg for once? Now I owe Watari a sword-polishing.”

“I really hope that wasn’t a euphemism.” Matsukawa scolded weakly, covering the ears of the spawn closest to him (Kindaichi).

“None of your business.” Kyoutani shot back, ever the mature one. “By the way, His Royal Jerkface wanted you two in the courtroom.”

“Jerkface…” Hanamaki repeated, chewing slowly. “Really?”

Kyoutani shrugged. “I don’t swear in front of kids.”

“But you talk about sword-polishing while they’re here?”

“To the pure, all things are pure.” Kyoutani replied smugly. “Later perverts, I got a sword to polish. Something I’m sure neither of you will be able to do anytime soon.”

The last statement was said from the hallway, but the implications rang like an alarm in his head, growing like a gnawing horror. Beside him, Matsukawa groaned and slapped a hand over his face.

“Shit.”

Hanamaki reached out and smacked him upside the chin.

 

-

 

It’s not like they didn’t have any self-control. They had _plenty_. Besides, they only had four days to go. That wasn’t that long. And it’s not like they couldn’t cash in a favor and ask some of the other occupants of the castle to help keep an eye on the two for even just a little while. Fifteen minutes. Tops.

Suddenly, Kunimi gave a high-pitched little squawk, cheeks puffed out and glaring at him like he’d personally offended him. Hanamaki paled, his stomach sinking down to his feet as he hurriedly filled his mind with the most unsexy and child-friendly things possible.

“Issei?”

“Hm?”

“Kunimi said his mind-reading manifested around his teen years, right?”

Matsukawa stared at him, letting the silence drag out, the way he usually did when he wanted Hanamaki to know how stupid he just sounded without saying it to his face. “Yes?”

“Okay.” Hanamaki replied slowly, feeling slightly assured despite Kunimi’s eyes still boring two guilty holes into his soul. “Good to know.”

They entered Oikawa’s courtroom with Matsukawa still shooting him concerned looks. Hanamaki blinked in confusion at the sight of Oikawa sitting on his throne, face disturbingly blank, Iwaizumi suspiciously absent from his side.

“You wanted to see us, oh Royal Jerkface?” Matsukawa intoned, bowing exaggeratedly, Kindaichi squealing in delight when he was bounced in the air as Matsukawa straightened. Oikawa didn’t even blink at the title.

“You never got back to me yesterday. Though seeing as you two are still parading my halls with the glow of parenthood, it’s safe to assume that you don’t have a solution yet?”

“We do.” Matsukawa pulled out the slip of paper from thin air. “Sort of. We got this from Kuroo.”

He stepped forward with the parchment containing Kuroo’s instructions. Oikawa only quirked an eyebrow at the items on the list, humming lowly. “Well, good news, Yahaba might already have some of these on hand. If not, I can spare a soldier or two to help collect them.”

Matsukawa raised an eyebrow, head tilting curiously. “Why not get one of us to do it?”

“Yahaba was only so kind as to inform me that at this point, those two would have imprinted quite severely, and it wouldn’t do them any good to be separated from either one of you for too long.” Oikawa explained. “How are they?”

“They’re pretty manageable for the most part.” Matsukawa answered, pausing to step back down off the platform and wrap an arm around Hanamaki’s shoulders, planting an exasperatedly loud kiss on his temple. “And it’s times like these that I know I mated with the right demon because did you know that his magic is also useful for changing diapers without actually having to get your hands dirty? It’s amazing, he literally just puts them on a table and sna—”

“Fascinating.” Oikawa said flatly, but there was an hint of a scowl on his face now. Hanamaki would personally count that as a victory. “Now, I know this is all technically your fault, and while a vacation would be the last thing you deserve, for the spawns’ sakes, I’m willing to give you the rest of the week off. Just until the day Kuroo can get those two back to normal.”

Hanamaki propped Kunimi up on one arm, balancing him on his hip to wrap his free arm around Matsukawa’s shoulders. “I really don’t think a break will be necessary though. Like we said, they’re pretty well-behaved.”

Oikawa glared irritably down at them. “You’re seriously thinking of taking two spawns with you for battle training?”

“With all due respect, your Royal Jerkface,” Matsukawa smirked, and Hanamaki hid a snicker behind Kunimi’s hair when Oikawa’s eyebrow twitched, looking vaguely constipated, “but fatherhood isn’t gonna stop us from running our trainees ragged.”

 

-

 

Kuroo had been kind enough to charm noise-cancelling earmuffs for Kunimi, who was napping peacefully in the wrap he’d expertly tied across his chest so that he would still have both arms free to correct postures and smack underachievers into shape.

Contrary to his hopes, archery practice was a mild disaster, the trainees too intrigued by the spawn cradled against his chest to focus on his instructions during their one-on-one lessons. By the time they all emptied out their quivers, Hanamaki could only count an impressively disappointing number of arrows that stuck out from the canvases.

“You all better get your as—er—selves into proper working order or else I’m going to take up the King’s offer for paternal leave and have _Iwaizumi_ handle this class in my place.”

Hanamaki allowed himself a moment of sadistic glee at the line of pale, horrified faces. After shouting a short affirmative, they all scattered to collect their arrows.

“I don’t remember ever agreeing to be your substitute.” a voice behind him said airily, and Hanamaki turned to greet Iwaizumi with a cheeky smile.

He had his trademark scowl on his face, but it softened into neutrality when he saw the makeshift pouch tied around Hanamaki’s front. His approached slowed, smiling as he peeked at the bundle.

“You don’t have to be quiet.” Hanamaki reassured, tying off the secure knot at his hip to let Iwaizumi hold Kunimi. “Those earmuffs are charmed to keep noise out.”

“Smart.” Iwaizumi murmured, supporting the spawn’s bottom as he pulled him into his arms. “Kuroo?”

Hanamaki begrudgingly nodded. Iwaizumi snickered, all-too-aware of their odd dynamic. Hanamaki only rolled his eyes at him.

“You weren’t in Oikawa’s courtroom earlier, when we were summoned.”

Iwaizumi’s scowl suddenly returned full-force. He pointedly turned away, watching the trainees scramble to collect their arrows, some wandering past the surrounding hay bales and into the forest to pull the mint-and-white plumed arrows out of tree trunks. “I don’t have to be around him all the time. Newsflash, I have other responsibilities to this kingdom too.”

Hanamaki rolled his eyes again. Iwaizumi always got noticeably snappy when he was upset with Oikawa. Figures. “I’m not questioning your role as Head Knight, Iwaizumi. You don’t have to get all defensive.”

“I wasn—”

“You two have been strange since we left you yesterday.” Hanamaki interrupted. “Really, what’s up?”

Iwaizumi leveled him with a poisonous glare, and Hanamaki was only left to wonder how someone shorter than him can make him feel like _he’s_ the one being looked down on.

“My stress level.”

“Iwaizu—”

“My blood pressure.”

“Iwa—”

“My desire to just punch him out until he finally sees se—”

“It’s because you want kids, isn’t it?”

Iwaizumi’s jaw clicked audibly, face hardening, and for a moment Hanamaki swore he saw tears collect along the rim of his eyes until a blink whisked them away.

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” Iwaizumi mumbled, almost not loud enough to carry through the sudden howl of wind, “if Oikawa’s too fucking stubborn to change his mind about going to war with Shiratorizawa.”

“Don’t curse.” Hanamaki reprimanded, momentarily forgetting the earmuffs. His eyes darted to where Iwaizumi’s hand had tightened imperceptibly around the cloth swaddling Kunimi.

“Did you even talk to him about this?” he asked gently, fingers slipping beneath Iwaizumi’s in warning. “And I mean _talk_ , Iwaizumi, not shout passive aggressive shi— _stuff_ at him hoping that he reads between the lines because you of all people know he doesn’t think like that.”

Then again, it was probably just as hard for Iwaizumi to admit what he wanted, had always been too selfless to push for his own wishes even though he was in a perfectly acceptable position to do so, and for all the stories Hanamaki heard about human greed, it seemed like one Iwaizumi Hajime didn’t have a single drop of it in his veins.

“And what then?” Iwaizumi scoffed. Hanamaki noted absently that Iwaizumi still hadn’t let go of his fingers. “Despite all the mom jokes you idiots seem so keen on pushing, I’m not actually a woman. Sorry if that comes as a surprise to you.”

Hanamaki swore that if he rolled his eyes one more time they would pop right out of their sockets. “You know none of us give a shiIIIii _iii_ —” he trailed off, then promptly gave up, “about blood continuity, right? You could adopt. Hell, you could even get a surrogate. If not that, Kuroo said he had a spell to work around biological concerns.”

It was almost amusing, watching the range of emotions pan across Iwaizumi’s face as he ran through the suggestions, but the fun was short-lived. The lines around his mouth slowly disappeared, washed out by the sadness settling into the planes of his face.

“I just don’t understand it sometimes. Why he can never seem to be…” he trailed off, let a harsh breath pass through his nose, eyes darting listlessly, as if he could find the words floating in the air in front of him, “content? Why he still feels the need to expand his territory, colonize the smaller kingdoms or some bullshit. He’s loved by his people and his kingdom is safe. You’d think that’d be more than enough for any king.”

Hanamaki shook his head, awkwardly stepping close in an attempt at companionship. Hell, why was he so bad at this… “Hell if I know, but I’m pretty sure if there’s someone who can get his high and mightyness to finally settle down, it’s you.”

A flush settled high on Iwaizumi’s ears. He didn’t say anything, but Hanamaki could see that the clench of his jaw was gone.

Hanamaki slipped his fingers from Iwaizumi’s grasp, reaching up to pat him on the head, the weight of his hand steadily increasing when he didn’t get a glare. “Just talk to him. And I mean _talk_ to him. It’ll work out, trust me.”

More silence. But this time Iwaizumi was smiling, it was small and hesitant but he was smiling, and that made all the difference. Now’s his chance.

“But between you and me, I have no idea how your spawn is going to deal with having two five-year-olds as parents.”

He wasn’t _quite_ fast enough to miss the punch aimed at his shoulder, but the hint of laughter that passed through Iwaizumi’s lips was pretty much worth it.

 

-

 

Hanamaki sighed and closed his eyes against the soft patter of water on his face. He’d extended archery practice well into the early evening, until it was too dark to actually see the targets. It made up for the rocky start, but the repercussions were making themselves known through his aching muscles. Walking around with the weight of a healthy demon spawn strapped to his chest definitely did not make things any better, Kunimi’s cuteness be damned. He smoothed the soapy cloth over stiff shoulders, moaning at the soothing pass of hot water.

It was probably a testament to how often it happened that he didn’t jump at the sound of footsteps on wet tile. He angled his head just barely, and all he caught was the shade of a hungry smirk before he’s pushed forward, trapped against the wall and a firm body.

“God,” Matsukawa purred into his ear. “seeing you like this always makes me wanna fuck you into the wall.”

“Pretty sure you traumatized our neighbor enough the last time you did it.” Hanamaki chuckled, shoulders hunching to dislodge Matsukawa’s exploring teeth from his sensitive jaw. “Issei, the _kids_ —”

“ _The kids_ ,” Matsukawa growled, teeth nipping the slope of skin stretched over bone, tongue peeking out to lick down his neck, “are both asleep. I put their earmuffs on ‘em. They won’t hear a thing.”

That was practically all it took for Hanamaki to stop struggling, to let Matsukawa spin him around and force him back against the wall. The shower continued to run hot, fueling the desire coursing thickly through his veins.

“Issei,” Hanamaki moaned, vowels trailing off into a gasp, “oh fuck, don’t stop doing that.”

Matsukawa was only too eager to oblige, hips grinding harder against his in an expert rhythm. He still had his underwear on, but even then Hanamaki could feel how hard he was, and he was pretty sure he was no better. He blindly angled his head, whining for a kiss until lips crashed into his. He shivered anew as Matsukawa suckled on his tongue, teeth scraping down the sensitive muscle just rough enough to be exciting.

“Will you be good for me, sweetheart?” Matsukawa whispered against his lips, husky and hoarse and just the way Hanamaki liked it. “Do you want to come?”

He whined, hips moving mindlessly, trying to get more friction. Just enough. Almost _there_ —

A loud cry erupted from the bedroom, the ear-piercing wailing that only Kindaichi seemed to be capable of. Hanamaki cursed, legs unlocking in surprise and accidentally falling on his ass with a yelp.

He and Matsukawa locked gazes, chests heaving, erections awkwardly dying down under the cold water and the sound of Kindaichi’s crying.

“We are _never_ going to have children.” Matsukawa declared with a defeated groan, sinking to the floor with him, falling backwards and pathetically sinking into a small puddle on the floor, looking for all the world like he was about to repeatedly slam his head against the tile in utter frustration.

“Three more days,” Hanamaki sighed, reaching out to stiffly pat his mate’s knee.

 

-

 

Hanamaki _knew_ that it was almost too good to be true that they’d pass all five days with only minor tantrums as the most traumatizing takeaway from the experience.

Hanamaki was no stranger to choking on his own hubris, and perhaps all he could be thankful for at this point was that it had never resulted in anything too damaging. Then again, perhaps it was for that very reason that he never actually learned his lesson.

He was sitting on his bed, letting the kids play while Matsukawa slept beside him, chest rising and falling in the slow rhythm of sleep. His odd sleeping habits meant he rarely ever slept the same time as Matsukawa did, only managing to doze off a good few hours after his mate. The kids were oddly energetic despite the late hour, chasing after each other on all fours, picking up and dropping whatever toy suited their impressively short attention spans.

The last time he’d looked up Kindaichi and Kunimi were crawling to the slightly-ajar door, probably intrigued by the roughened wood with its ornate carvings and metal inlays. His eyes had wandered back to his book, confident that they wouldn’t be able to push it open and escape into the hallway, and that he’d hear it if they did.

He didn’t hear the creak of the door, or the light sound of curious little hands patting against the wooden surface. What he heard instead was a hollow, sickening _crack_.

(and Hanamaki will always, _always_ hate the fact that he recognized the sound immediately: of something blunt and heavy and solid crashing against a skull with all the intent of bashing it in.)

He barely caught what happened next, could barely even register Matsukawa sitting up beside him, lightning-quick. All he could remember seeing—all he could remember _smelling_ —was blood.

Silence. Then, a head-splitting scream.

Hanamaki had moved before it even registered, but Matsukawa was already out of the bed, cradling a wailing Kunimi—blood in his hair, on his forehead, down his cheek—in his arms as he ran out of the room. Hanamaki redirected his efforts to collecting Kindaichi—who was shell-shocked and confused, a hair’s breadth away from bursting into tears himself—all the while trying to avert his gaze from the blood splatters along the edge of the wood and the white of the patterned quilt, fresh and dark.

His heart was beating furiously in his chest as he ran after his mate. His mouth was dry, sweat breaking cold on his skin, breaths coming in short, barely substantial gasps. Everything around him was steadily growing blurrier, and when he closed his eyes to clear his vision, two warm trails trickled their way down his cheeks and didn’t stop.

The smell of blood still lingered in the labyrinth of his lungs.

 

-

 

When Watari pulled back the curtain, Hanamaki finally took his first proper breath in the past hour. Matsukawa had looked up from his tightly-interlaced hands, knuckles paper-white, and sagged back into the seats in relief at the sight of Watari’s smile.

“He’s fine.” Watari said, tone warm and reassuring despite the dark circles beneath his eyes. He tugged back the curtain the rest of the way to show Kunimi sleeping peacefully in a bed much too big for him, surrounded on all sides with pillows and swaddled in a thick blanket, the top of his head all wrapped up in clean bandages.

“I’ll have to keep him here for tonight, so it’ll be easier for me to check every hour or so.” Watari yawned. “I managed to heal the worst of the bleeding and the more obvious fractures but spawns are…pretty fragile. I’d really rather not take any chances.”

“One of you can stay. Just,” he gestured vaguely to the many beds lined up in the infirmary and Hanamaki bowed low to him in thanks, despite his weak protests.

“I’m a healer, Hanamaki-san. You don’t need to thank me for doing my job.” Watari scratched the back of his head nervously. “But if you really insist then you can spare me any extra work by getting some rest too.”

Hanamaki nodded, and Watari yawned again as he walked off, disappearing beneath a doorway shuttered with beaded strings. When he turned to look, Matsukawa was already posted up at Kunimi’s bedside, chin propped up on one of the pillows, hand stroking feather-light over the bandages. He called his mate’s name—soft, hesitant—and silence was the only reply he received.

 

-

 

Their third day “playing house”, as Kuroo so elegantly put it, went by with anxiety and an unspoken blame swimming in the air between them like a suffocation spell. Hanamaki couldn’t even bring himself to share the same space as Matsukawa, not when he wouldn’t even bother to look at him, not after he made that snide remark about _can’t even fucking watch two spawns_.

Overseeing archery practice was a welcome breath of fresh air. All day, he’d been fielding concerned sentiments from everyone in the castle it seemed, but not even Iwaizumi’s steady presence and Oikawa’s calm advice could make him feel any better, any less responsible.

Kindaichi was a more active spectator than Kunimi was, clapping and gurgling with every dull sound of an arrow landing its target. Most of his students have already warmed up to the idea of Hanamaki cradling around a spawn, with some even eager to put on a show for the kid, landing one bulls-eye after another. Kindaichi, for some mystical reason, seemed to understand that that was the goal, squealing and pointing and babbling excitedly whenever someone got a perfect score. Predictably, during break time, they crowded around Hanamaki, angling curious heads and standing on their toes to get a better look.

“He’s so cute!” One of them crowed, letting Kindaichi grab her index finger and futilely try to pull it into his mouth. Hanamaki kept a watchful eye at the proceedings but Kindaichi seemed nowhere near upset. In fact, he seemed to enjoy the attention.

“I’ve never seen a spawn before.” One muttered in slight awe, waving awkwardly when Kindaichi turned to him.

“He reminds me of my little brother.” Another said, cupping Kindaichi’s pudgy cheeks and cooing nonsense at him.

“Alright, break’s over.” Hanamaki scolded tightly, trying to keep the fatigue out of his voice as he shooed the overly-eager hands away, Kindaichi blubbering in complaint when the finger in his grasp was tugged back. The trainees previously gathered around dispersed after little _goodbye, Kin-chan_ s said in exaggerated, playful voices, quelling the waterworks that threatened to bubble up.

He looked down around the same time Kindaichi looked up, as if knowing that he was the only one left to give him attention. Hanamaki smiled. Or gave a very sad attempt at one. Kindaichi blew a raspberry at him.

He jerked back in surprise, scowling at the feel of saliva sprayed over his face, but Kindaichi only giggled, clapped his hands and continued to splatter his face with spit, and on the third attack, Hanamaki retaliated, blowing a raspberry right on one of his adorable little cheeks.

When he broke into a round of high giggles, Hanamaki smiled genuinely, for the first time that day.

 

-

 

Hanamaki didn’t hate his odd sleeping habits. It was kind of hard to, when he’d lived his entire life with it, only dimly aware of the fact that there was an alternative. Being wide awake while the rest of the world slept offered its own rewards: stretches of silence and solitude, a personal love for the beauty of night.

He’d never hated it before, but he hated it now. Now when he couldn’t pretend to be asleep when Matsukawa entered the room, closed the door silently behind him, pattered across the space and sat on the edge of the bed. Couldn’t pretend to not feel it when he crawled forward and lined their bodies up, a forehead pressed against the base of his neck, knees knocked against his calves, an arm around his waist.

The part of him that was always hungry for his mate’s touch was eerily silent, and instead of relaxing when he felt Matsukawa’s lips press onto his hairline, his joints locked up, muscles tensing, limbs moving to get away, to escape the feel of having him so close.

“It’s okay.” Matsukawa whispered, “The kids are with Watari. It’s okay.”

But Hanamaki didn’t stop struggling (anger welling up at the sheer _audacity_ that Matsukawa thought Hanamaki didn’t want to do this just because the kids might be around) then he felt it. Something warm— _wet_ —spreading over to his side of the pillow. He turned to look, squinted in the blinding darkness but Matsukawa had already sunk forward, burying his face in his neck

“Taka, I’m sorry.” He gasped, voice shaky and fragile and vulnerable in the all the ways Matsukawa rarely ever was. “I’m sorry, I—”

And here his voice cracked again, curling inward and retreating back to his throat like a frightened animal. Hanamaki lied there, pressed so close that every sob that wracked Matsukawa’s body jostled him too.

And just like that it was as if all the words were knocked out of him. He wanted to say something, but his mouth was dry and his voice was gone and even if they weren’t he didn’t even know what to say.

So instead he reached out, folded his hands over the curve of Matsukawa's nape, pulled him close and kissed him hard, with strength and desperation equal to his own guilt and apologies, hoping that it would be enough, that it would be what they needed.

And when Matsukawa responded in kind, everything else was forgotten.

 

-

 

He woke up the third day to the heavy creak of the door. Then to the inevitable _bang_ as it slammed carelessly against the wall. Only one demon in the castle had enough strength to actually succeed in slamming oak doors, and Hanamaki cursed mutely into his pillow.

“Kyoutani,” Hanamaki groaned, tone yoyo-ing petulantly, “it’s too early for this.”

“The sun has been up for three hours now, for your information.”

Hanamaki peeked out from beneath the blanket to give him a brief, one-eyed glare. “Be fucking grateful the kids weren’t here when you pulled that shit. I would’ve skinned you alive.”

“I did _that_ because I _knew_ they weren’t.” Kyoutani replied. Even with his eyes closed, Hanamaki could feel his judgement waving over him. “Matsukawa-san was in the mess hall with the spawns.”

Hanamaki clicked his tongue irritably, switching tactics. “You’d think after catching us naked that one time would already be enough to traumatize you into knocking first.”

“One: who said I was traumatized? Two: I really don’t see why being seen naked is a big deal. Life would be a lot less complicated without clothes, to be honest. Three: court warlock said something about the soldier returning this afternoon with all the ingredients. The spell is pushing through tomorrow, and I quote, _unless you change your minds_.”

It took him a while to sift through Kyoutani’s little rant for the bits of information he actually needed. A frown wrinkled his brow then he finally got to the end. “What is _that_ even supposed to mean?”

“I’m only here to deliver messages, not interpret them.” A section of the bed suddenly sank, and it surprised Hanamaki enough to actually open both eyes. Kyoutani was sitting on his edge of the bed, butt just shy of grazing his hip. He was gazing curiously at the crib, then at the stuffed animals scattered strategically over the floor. “I heard you had Watari babysit last night?”

Hanamaki grunted in affirmative.

“Well that explains Matsukawa-san’s limp in the mess hall earlier.” he suddenly finished, and Hanamaki immediately felt crimson heat sweeping over his neck. He covered his face with his arm, spinning to bury his face in the pillows.

“Mad Dog can you _please_ —”

“Yeah, yeah, boundaries, that’s personal, _there are things we don’t talk about_. Yada yada. Got it.” Kyoutani intoned dryly. The weight on the bed shifted, bouncing around before finally settling.

“You okay?”

He lifted his head, blinking dumbly at the blond blur that he presumed was his unwanted guest. “Wha…?”

“I said,” Kyoutani repeated, with a patience that Hanamaki never knew he possessed, “are you okay?”

He didn’t elaborate any further than that, and they both knew that he didn’t need to. Hanamaki stared, blinking until the silhouette sharpened into Kyoutani’s scowling face. There was a softness in the downturned curl of his lips, and odd kind of knowing in his strangely-shaped pupils. It made Hanamaki feel exposed, left out of a secret everyone was in on.

“Yeah,” he answered, but it came out terrifyingly brittle. “Yeah I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Kyoutani blinked at him, didn’t say anything when Hanamaki pointedly wriggled to Matsukawa’s side of the bed, turning to face the wall and pulling the blanket up to his forehead. But when he said _Spawns aren’t the only ones who imprint, you know,_ Hanamaki pretended not to hear him.

When Hanamaki woke up again, he immediately noticed the new addition to the nightstand, a thin, clear bottle, its contents a familiar red-brown liquid. It pinned down a small note, _it’s cream puff flavored_ written on it in Yahaba’s hurried scrawl.

 

-

 

Matsukawa came up at the expected time: when the sun shone bright through the arched stone window, its rays stretching out to cover Hanamaki’s side of the bed like a second blanket, the bustle of afternoon activities from outside loud enough to be carried into the room but not enough to be bothersome. His eyes went wide when he opened the door to find Hanamaki already seated, and Hanamaki looked up in time to offer him a smile, even though he’s sure it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“And I was getting them hyped for good morning kisses too.” Matsukawa pouted, and Hanamaki couldn’t even find the energy to tease him for being sad over something so trivial, only shrugging as he gestured them to the bed.

“Who says they can’t do it even when I’m awake?”

Matsukawa blinked, and there went again that thoughtful half-frown, and despite all the fond memories he’d associated with that expression, it was getting quite tiresome, seeing it so often.

“Alright,” Matsukawa relented, dropping the two onto the sheets, “go for it, kids.”

The two crawled clumsily, pitching forward and getting tangled in the sheets. Hanamaki laughed weakly, hands gently working to free them. The first head that poked out of the blanket greeted him with a kiss and a round of animated gurgling, little firsts bumping against his face, grabbing for his horns.

“Good morning to you too, Kin-chan.” An indignant squawk and Kunimi’s head popped out of the blanket, glaring sullenly up at him. Hanamaki bent low and nuzzled his cheek, closing his eyes when Kunimi kissed the space between them. “Good morning, Kuni-chan.”

When the kids looked up and smiled, he didn’t feel the same bloom of happiness he always did at the sight of them, their crescent-shaped eyes and pink gums with teeth he could count on one hand. The backs of his eyes burned. His hands trembled where he carefully held them up.

“So…” Matsukawa trailed off, lips pursing, “tomorrow.”

The atmosphere immediately grew heavy, crashing around them and shattering like something fragile, something precious. Hanamaki hastily set both kids back down, lest they fall right out of his shaking hands.

“Shame,” Matsukawa continued, eyes distant, “we didn’t even get to hear their first words.”

His fingers twitched in the sheets, exhale coming like it had been punched out of him. Matsukawa didn’t seem to notice, humming thoughtfully. “Pretty sure for Kunimi it was _no_. For Kindaichi it’s probably _shallo_ —”

“Goddammit Issei can’t you just shut up for five goddamned, shitty, cock, fucking, asshole, fuck, _shit_ , _shitting_ , mother _fucking_ seconds.”

He was almost proud that he’d only hissed his way through that whole rant, instead of exploding into one of his usual temper tantrums, magic bursting out of him in angry little spurts, leaving a ruined room in its wake. He had tucked his head between his knees, fingers folded over the back of his head, if only to keep from seeing the kids’ terrified faces, to hide from the fact that he’d literally just blown up for no discernible reason and probably made an emotional fool of himself and traumatized Kindaichi and Kunimi in one go. Matsukawa was probably looking at him, exasperated, ready with a sharp _I’m pretty sure half those curse words weren’t even applicable_ or _So what was that about swearing in front of the kids_. Or he might not even say anything at all, just take the kids and leave and let him calm down on his own.

But none of those came. What did was two hands gently curling around his wrists, a soft kiss at his pulse point, fingers threading loosely into his hair, whispers of _Alright, it’s alright. I’m sorry_. Small hands tugged at his sleeves. There was no crying. Not even a whimper. One slapped the back of his hand insistently, another sunk into his hair, following the path of Matsukawa’s larger hand, clumsier but no less comforting.

Breathing suddenly came easier, and Matsukawa didn’t say a word about the wet streaks on his cheeks when he lifted his head from between his knees. Two heads peeked at him from his elbows, blinking, wide brown eyes void of any fear, only the brightest little curiosity.

“You see what you did to me?” he murmured morosely, painfully and embarrassingly childish, but the two had already begun to drool on his sleeves, earlier outburst easily forgotten.

Hanamaki allowed himself that moment, allowed the kids to teeth at the poofy swell of his sleeves, let them crawl and climb until they were on his lap, groping for his hands. He wordlessly charmed off any dirt from them just in time for them both to close their little mouths around a finger each, sucking noisily.

“Tomorrow you’re gonna be grown-ups again.” Hanamaki whispered against the soft, short strands of Kindaichi’s hair. “You won’t be giving your parents good morning kisses anymore.”

Kindaichi only blinked slowly at him. Hanamaki leaned back into the pillows, readjusting both of them so that they were tucked neatly against his chest, small, delicate breaths puffing against his palms.

He didn’t know when it started, but he remembered it started out slow, soft, weaving between in the sound of two small heartbeats pressed so close he could feel it in his own chest. Matsukawa was singing an old lullaby, one he wasn’t sure anyone in the kingdom still even knew the words to, voice pitched low and melodic and as sweet as every single time he sang.

Hanamaki hadn’t meant to cry, but the tears were tracing the same path they did earlier before he could even stop them. Matsukawa still didn’t say a word, but he curled up close, fitting his body perfectly against Hanamaki’s side, all the while continuing to sing.

 

-

 

“They’re not gonna remember any of this when they get back to normal, so if you wanna be embarrassing parents and give ‘em little kisses goodbye, now’s your chance.”

Hanamaki paused in the act of handing Kunimi over to Kuroo, pulling the tiny spawn back to blow a raspberry on his cheek. The infant squealed in protest, squirming and batting at his face.

“How fast they grow up. Kunimi doesn’t want us kissing him anymore.” Matsukawa pouted, exaggerated mournfulness in his tone. In his arms, Kindaichi made a babbling noise that sounded like assent, pulling his pacifier out of his mouth and dropping it on the floor, oddly symbolic.

“Say bye to your parents, kids.” Kuroo cooed, as soon as Kindaichi and Kunimi were settled on each arm. The two looked up at him and Matsukawa, eyes wide and confused, gaze not breaking even as Kuroo disappeared behind the steps to the basement. Hanamaki jumped at the sound of Kunimi crying, but Matsukawa set a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Sorry.” he muttered, nervously fiddling with his sleeves. “Habit.”

“Nah.” Matsukawa shook his head. “I’m gonna miss it too.”

Soon enough the depths of the basement ate up any sounds of crying. Matsukawa reached out and wrapped his fingers gently around his hand, curling until long fingers slipped into his palm, thumb stroking circles on his wrist.

“Well, we _could_ take Kuroo-san up on his offer…” Matsukawa started, and there’s a lilt of a joke in his tone, but Hanamaki’s practiced ears already picked up the thread of seriousness, of longing, like a door being opened and a hopeful hand reaching out. He smiled and turned to his mate, slipping his hand from his grip to poke a finger at his chest.

“Only if _you’re_ the one getting pregnant.”

 

-

 

“Hanamaki-san! Good morning!” Kindaichi greeted dutifully the next day, when he caught sight of him from the other end of the deserted hallway.

Like Kuroo had said, the two couldn’t remember a thing that transpired in the last week. Oikawa had decided to weave a completely different story, for reasons Hanamaki really didn’t care about enough, but he figured that telling the two that they were locked in a coma was easier than telling them they’d been de-aged and were put in the care of their superiors.

Hanamaki only offered him a brief smile, turning back to the roll of parchment in his hands if only to distract himself, waiting for Kindaichi to pass by and hurry on to his own business.

Only Kindaichi didn’t pass him. The taller demon stopped at his shoulder, smiled, and bent to close that 5-centimeter distance between them to plant a kiss on his cheek.

Hanamaki’s eyes went wide, head jerking up to meet Kindaichi’s in time to see his expression go from dazed to horrified. If it had been any other situation, Hanamaki would’ve burst out laughing at his hilariously wide eyes, but as it was, all he could muster up was a blank, shell-shocked stare.

“I—” Kindaichi stuttered, going comically red, then pale, then red again as he backed away slowly. “I’m so sorry!”

Hanamaki didn’t get a chance to respond, didn’t get a chance to even blink. In the same breath as his apology, the younger demon had done a complete 180 and ran back the way he came, ears visibly blushed pink even in the distance.

He lifted his hand, gingerly patting the still slightly-wet spot on his cheek. He smiled, all teeth and a playful sort of thrill and—dare he say it—paternal pride.

“Good morning to you too, Kin-chan.”

**Author's Note:**

> my [tumblr](http://plumtreeforest.tumblr.com) is alive again~ mostly reblobbing kpop at the moment tho


End file.
